Crowns And Cutlasses
by Ace of Hearts
Summary: AU pirate adventure In an effort to set up a political alliance, Sweden has betrothed their Princess Allenby to France's Comte George de Sand. Only a problem arises, when Allenby's ship is intercepted by a crew of pirates led by one Chibodee Crockett.
1. Chapter One

A thunderous clapping of stallions' hooves pounding against the forest floor, accompanied by the frenzied barking of trained hunting hounds, grandly announced the arrival of the young nobles before the gentlemen themselves even came into view. Not long after, the dense, leafy foliage parted to allow a swift herd of deer to scamper out, followed closely by a majestic white stallion that burst from the flora after them, leading a group of easily half a dozen of its kind in pursuit of the wild game. Its rider, a young man with flowing ginger hair and aristocratic good looks, snapped his riding crop against his mount's flank, wordlessly urging it on as the magnificent horse sprinted after the deer, taking a breathtaking jump across a wide river in its relentless pursuit and easily leaving the other riders far behind. A cluster of excited hounds followed at its heels, splashing noisily across the river after their master, caught up in the frenzy of the hunt and demonstrating their enthusiasm through loud barks and pants. 

George de Sand felt the wind rushing against him from all sides, whipping his long hair around him like a glorious flag and tearing at his cape as he rode after the deer, his crouched form rhythmically half-rising and falling from his saddle with each pounding sprint his horse took. From somewhere behind, the handsome youth could dimly hear the rest of his party begin to catch up, the wild shouts and hoots of the other aristocrats noisily giving away their presence, before one of them broke away from the rest of the group and relentlessly assaulted his coal-black steed with his riding crop in an effort to pull alongside George.   
"Trying to amass all the glory for yourself by single-handedly taking down the game, are you, Comte de Sand?" he called out to George, his own hunting hounds barking as if to emphasize his words as he finally caught up to the younger man. George turned around, his violet eyes narrowing in recognition before he replied in a carefully neutral voice, "I suppose in your eyes I am, Marquis Mirabeau." Jean-Pierre Mirabeau merely smirked, before rapidly shaking his reins to push ahead of George, intent on doing the exact thing he'd accused the younger aristocrat of planning only a few minutes earlier.   
"Watch and learn, Comte de Sand," he ordered, half-rising off his saddle in anticipation as his horse rapidly approached the herd. His arms moved swiftly toward an elegant hunting rifle, and its owner took careful aim, while giving every appearance of idle coolness, at a straggler who'd fallen behind...And then Jean-Pierre was suddenly forced to slacken his posture, when George reined in his horse to a stop practically directly in front of him, blocking his perfect shot of his selected target.   
"Comte de Sand," the marquis demanded peevishly, "if it won't pain you too much, please explain the meaning behind all of this!" The younger noble offered an apologetic smile, but remained planted exactly where he was, even as the deer hurriedly dashed away from the hunters and the rest of the party steadily caught up.   
"It won't pain me at all, Marquis Jean-Pierre Mirabeau," George began respectfully, "for as you can see, while I understand perfectly the ultimate goal of a hunt, I simply can't allow you to kill a mother and her fawn."   
"And while _I_ can admire your _kindness,"_ Jean-Pierre shot back, putting a poisonous emphasis on the last word so as to make it seem the most contemptible quality a man could have, "I would also like to remind you, Comte, to realize exactly where you stand in the Royal Court. There are those around you, with greater power and influence, who find these irritating and rather effeminate qualities particularly distasteful, Monsieur de Sand." 

By then, the rest of the party had caught up, unintentionally stifling the rising animosities between the two nobles. They were a boisterous crowd, young and vigorous, with a lust for life and adventure and wild, fiery tempers lurking just beneath their outer veneers of utmost gentility. They rode up to George and Jean-Pierre, noisy with their laughter and rowdy whoops, playfully harassing that the two best riders in all of France had managed to let the wild game escape so easily, cheerfully unaware of the steely, meaningful glares the latter was giving the former, and respectfully quieting down only when the King himself rode up to them, accompanied by his daughter, the Princess Marie Louise, who was seated demurely on a dainty little mare, sidesaddle as was befitting of ladies and peering up from underneath her lacy pink parasol with barely concealed interest at the virile aristocrats' antics.   
"Is there a problem, gentlemen?" the King asked calmly, surveying the now more orderly nobles with a hint of amusement in his eyes. Jean-Pierre was the first one to speak up, as he drawled casually, "Not a problem at all, Your Majesty...the Comte here and I were just having a friendly little chat, that's all."   
"Yes," George reluctantly picked up on the cue, adding with his eyes carefully lowered to the mane of his horse, "Marquis Mirabeau was merely giving me some hunting advice...I...I'm afraid I let the wild game escape me, Your Majesty."   
"Oh, that's not a problem at all, George--pardon me, Comte de Sand," Marie Louise interjected herself into the conversation, flashing her brightest smile at the handsome young count and hoping that he'd notice she'd arranged her long blonde hair into a new style of coiffures today, or at least that she was wearing her prettiest rose-colored moiré dress. George offered a short, polite bow at the princess, but there was in his movement, she noticed with disappointment, no sign of any affection deeper than that of friendship or admiration.   
"She's right, it shouldn't prove to be a problem, Comte de Sand," the King agreed amiably, then added with a light smile, "And even if it does, I'm sure your future bride won't mind too much--I hear she's quite the easygoing and carefree young lady." A noisy clatter interrupted the monarch before he could go any further, and George hastened to leap off his mount and retrieve Marie Louise's parasol, which she'd suddenly let fall from her grasp. As he returned it to the princess, whose expression had hardly changed but whose face was now as white as snow, he forced a bland smile on his own face while asking in what he hoped was a steady voice, "I beg your pardon, Your Majesty? My future bride, you said?" The King leaned back on his saddle, looking a bit surprised at George's ignorance, before clearing his throat and explaining to himself, "But of course...you've been away at Spain and Italy for these past six months, protecting my wife and daughter on their Grand Tour--I suppose, then, that my letter never came to you?" George struggled to remember all the mail he'd gotten while accompanying Her Majesty and the princess, dimly hearing his own voice reply, "I'm afraid not, Your Majesty...was there a, er, notification of my engagement in your letter?" The King looked slightly embarrassed, rushing through his explanation as he admitted, "Well, yes. I had hoped to consult with you first before consenting, but it just so happens that while you were gone, the Royal Court of Sweden offered to give the hand of their princess, Allenby Beardsley, in marriage to one of the high-ranking nobles in our court in an effort to make an alliance with our country."   
"I see." George's voice was deceptively quiet. "And the high-ranking noble Your Majesty chose was myself." Now the King actually looked uncomfortable by the coolly unattached calm with which George accepted his engagement, and he fumbled for an apology while saying, "It will be quite a good match, Comte de Sand--your marriage with Princess Allenby of Sweden. I hope you understand--"   
"I do," George replied in words so soft, they were barely above a whisper. His face had metamorphosed into a blank, unreadable mask, as he asked his next question. "When will this wedding take place?" The King looked relieved that George hadn't created a scene or staunchly refused his engagement to the princess of Sweden, and in his haste to explain the details of the wedding he failed to notice that his daughter had been clutching her parasol so tightly during the conversation that her knuckles had turned as white as her face and the silly little sunshade nearly broke and snapped in two between her small palms.   
"It will be on the first day of spring--to symbolize a beautiful new relationship that will bloom between France and Sweden," he divulged. "We're hoping that Princess Allenby's ship can arrive in time for the wedding date." 

* * *

Seventeen-year-old Allenby Beardsley made a very pretty picture as she sat on a velvet chair and listlessly gazed out her window at the endless stretch of blue ocean in front of her, with her seafoam-green hair carefully combed down to startlingly contrast the dainty fairness of her skin and her slim form decorated with a bright silk dress that boasted extravagantly voluminous skirts and endless yards of ribbons and flounces. But the sorrowful expression ingrained in her usually pert features and the dullness that had seeped into her once animated eyes betrayed the Swedish princess's true feelings, and she sighed before angrily kicking a dent into the wall in a very unladylike manner. 

Her abrupt, aggressive movement caught the attention of her waiting gentlewoman Rain, who gave a start at the sudden noise before deftly moving toward the princess and laying a comforting hand on her shoulder.   
"You're not very happy about this arrangement, are you?" she guessed quietly, and was answered with a sarcastic smirk as Allenby came back with, "Oh, I'm perfectly happy about this, Rain--you know me, heh, there's nothing in the world that I love more than having my life decided by a bunch of stiff-necked, impersonal old goats who call themselves nobles and whose only concern is to protect their own lands and riches!" Rain drew back, stunned by this arsenal of bitingly cynical words, before a half-smile emerged on her lips and she tried to lighten the mood by saying cheerfully, "That's certainly the most interesting description of the aristocracy that I've ever heard in all my years at the palace. Swedish theaters lost a valuable actress when you decided not to take up comedy, Miss Allenby." A sour grin greeted her words, before Allenby pointed out grudgingly, "I was forbidden to take up any form of drama, for fear it would debase my royal reputation, remember? I didn't choose to not pursue acting on my own free will...just like I didn't choose to marry this French count." A shadow of a smile had begun to play at the corners of her lips, and Rain was observing with relief that her mood was beginning to lift ever so slowly, but as soon as Allenby's words switched to mention of her marriage, the tiny grin was instantly smote and replaced by her old bitter scowl. Rain sighed, dropping her voice to an understanding murmur as she dipped a brush in water and began to smooth down Allenby's hair.   
"I understand your feelings, how frustrating it must be to forfeit your personal life for the sake of your country," she began kindly as she continued to brush her mistress's hair. "But try to understand that, with your dear parents' passing just two months ago, your position as the heiress of the Swedish throne has been unexpectedly pushed to the forefront...and I'm afraid that the royal advisers--"   
"Just aren't ready to accept a woman as their leader, which is why they're in such a hurry to marry me off to the most powerful fool they can swindle and secure a strategic alliance for Sweden," Allenby finished bluntly, and Rain had to wince at the cold truth in her words. 

A brief silence settled between the two women, as Rain continued to brush her mistress's hair and Allenby returned to glaring at the dark blue waves, before the older of the two resumed conversation.   
"I hear this young man that you're engaged to--Comte George de Sand--isn't altogether that bad, Miss Allenby," she spoke up after a moment's silence, skillfully maneuvering the conversation away from the Swedish royal court the princess hated so much for wrangling her into marriage.   
"If my loyal and faithful advisers have deemed him worthy, then he can't be altogether that good, either," came the prompt reply, as Allenby screwed her features to make a funny face. Rain smiled, mentioning in an effort to lighten the mood, "He's supposed to be quite the handsome and gallant gentleman, you know--in fact, the most eligible bachelor of the French royal court."   
"In that case, he's probably also narcissistic enough to value the latest fashions more than his bride," Allenby prophesied grumpily. "I wouldn't be too surprised if it turns out that his ego is bigger than all of Europe--" 

At that moment, the noisy sounds of army boots marching swiftly against wooden floorboards interrupted the princess before she could list any further faults she was sure Comte de Sand possessed, and a soldier attired in the uniform of the Swedish royal army slammed the doors of the cabin wide open to poke his head inside.   
"Princess, you must hide at once!" he ordered, for once failing to adhere to standard courtesies paid to ladies as his hat remained on top of his head and he gave no indication that he was planning to bow any time soon. Rain looked merely startled at his rude interruption, but Allenby wasn't held back by any graces from unleashing her pent-up misery on the hapless cadet, and she gritted out acidly, "And what, pray tell, drives you to barge in here unannounced, when I might have been dressing, and just order me around as though I were your pet cat?" The soldier's next statement canceled out all animosity between the two, as he uttered a single word, the one most feared amongst all sailors.   
"Pirates!" he revealed frantically, not bothering to cushion his words for delicate female ears. "Our navigator spotted them charging right at us from the horizon--they must be intent on plundering this ship...or even worse, kidnap the princess! You must hide, immediately!" Allenby drew back, stunned by this unexpected news.   
"I...I'm terribly sorry for snapping at you like that," she apologized, flustered. "I didn't mean--" Rain seized her hand and started leading her toward the cellar, hurrying the startled princess along and saying, "There's no time for apologies...Right now, we must ensure your safety as best as we can." Still, Allenby moved along with slowness, even as the soldier joined Rain in helping her to safety.   
"But I can't just huddle around without even putting up a fight against these pirates, or even--" she was protesting.   
"Princess Allenby, believe me--the worst decision you could ever make in your life is to try and fight these ruffians," the soldier told her impatiently as they reached the three-masted sailing ship's cellar and he led the ladies inside. He closed the door and turned around to join his fellow cadets, but before he left he could distinctly hear the princess mumble, "No, the worst decision I can--and have--made is to just accept this marriage to Comte de Sand without putting up any resistance." 

Allenby sat crouched in the dark cellar, wrinkling her nose as the smell of aging wine seeped up her nostrils and pulling her cloak tighter around her slender shoulders. A couple of paces away, Rain had positioned herself protectively in front of Allenby, as if with her slim form she could shield the princess from the horrors of an unruly crew of armed pirates. The two women crouched in silence, listening intently to the sounds of battle raging above them--intently and with sinking hearts, for the rowdy laughter and loud, boisterous yells of the freely-cursing buccaneers soared effortlessly to drown out the muffled commands of naval officers and painful groans and cries of dying soldiers.   
"There's no need to worry too much, Miss Allenby. I have confidence that our men will drive those pirates away," Rain tried to lie, forcing a reassuring smile on her face even as she dug her fingernails into her palms when a particularly heartbreaking dying cry pierced the air following the unmistakable sound of metal slicing across flesh.   
"That's a lie, Rain, and you know it," Allenby spoke calmly, without the slightest hint of contempt in her voice. "What we both don't know, however, is just how badly these outlaws are beating our men...and I don't intend to continue hiding here like some frightened mouse without an idea of what's going on." The green-haired girl spoke her last words simultaneously with her movements, when she stood up and irritably pushed down her billowing hoop skirts and three lacy petticoats and made a beeline directly to the cellar doors. Rain got up after her, crying out in dismay, "Miss Allenby, what do you think you're doing?" with a sinking feeling in her heart that she knew exactly what the headstrong princess had in mind. Allenby mounted the steps leading to the doors, throwing them wide open and looking around for any discarded weapons she could use.   
"I'm putting up a fight against these renegades, like I should have done in the very beginning," she replied, with the same nonchalance that would be used when revealing something as casual as if she were having tea with the court ladies that afternoon. Rain felt like she would faint if that should happen, as she gathered her own rustling skirts around her and chased after the princess, even as the latter finally found a gold-hilted saber some poor soldier had dropped when he'd been slain by one of the pirates.   
"Miss Allenby, you can't do that!" she cried. "As your waiting gentlewoman and chaperone, I forbid you from entering the battle like this! It's far too dangerous, and a completely different matter from our previous disputes over relatively harmless decisions like riding astride instead of sidesaddle!" Allenby ignored her pleading, testing out the saber and making a couple of tentative thrusts into the air, before her eyes narrowed and she ran off where the battle sounded the most intense. 

Sai Saici's eyes gleamed on his deceptively child-like face, even as the cadet he'd just taken down gasped out his last words.   
"You...you can't tell me that you're only sixteen!" he whispered feebly, and Sai Saici tripped the much larger man, making him fall flat on his back while twirling around his staff and gloating, "Hah, believe it, Bro--and there's plenty more where that came from!" He raised his staff to deal the final strike, when a gleaming saber blade seemed to fly out of nowhere to parry his blow, and Sai Saici immediately leapt back, stunned and crouched in a defensive stance as his eyes wildly rolled over his immediate surroundings.   
"All right, who did that?" the sixteen-year-old boy demanded crossly, and nearly fell flat on his face from shock when a woman--no, not even that, a _girl_--emerged into view, expertly holding her saber as though she'd been sword fighting her entire life, even as the bright silk of her skirts and endless yards of ribbons, trimmings, and loops of excess material of her dress canceled out some of the effectiveness of her blade-wielding entrance.   
"Don't even think about robbing from this ship--not while I'm around," Allenby declared proudly, looking both dangerous with the offensive stance she took with her saber and rather silly due to the wide skirts and tiny satin slippers she was wearing along with her weapon. Sai Saici smirked, goading, "You really think you can take me on, Sissy, dressed like that? You'll be lucky if you don't trip over those ridiculous tents of yours that you call skirts!" Allenby looked like she wanted to bite his head off for that particular remark, as she charged at the much shorter Sai Saici with a wordless cry of fury, nearly cutting him in two with a wide slash of her saber had he not expertly ducked and leapt out of the way. 

The two dueled on for several minutes, with neither side gaining a significant advantage, Sai Saici flying from every which direction to deal swift, short blows, Allenby moving surprisingly gracefully, despite all her skirts and ribbons, as she parried each and every one of his strikes.   
"You're pretty good for a girl, you know that?" Sai Saici spurred on, causing Allenby's eyes to narrow before she thrust forward with her saber in an attempt to run him through while admitting grudgingly, "And you're not so bad yourself, either--for a little boy." Sai Saici huffed, insulted, as he screeched, "Hey, who're you calling a little boy?!" swinging at her with his staff. Allenby didn't bother to respond as she instead ducked to avoid his blow, but finally disaster struck when she backed away to avoid a second hit and wound up tripping over her extravagant skirts, ripping off the seams of her petticoats and falling flat on her bottom. Sai Saici smirked, raising his staff and twirling it around expertly over his head.   
"But you're still not good enough to defeat me," he taunted, making as if about to land a fatal blow right on top of her head. Allenby squeezed her eyes tightly shut, her saber clattering lifelessly out of her hands while Rain, detained by a pirate a few yards away, watched the scene unfold with helpless blue eyes... 

...When at that moment, another buccaneer swooped in to intervene, literally flying down in an exaggeratedly valiant fashion from a rope and landing with the easy grace of a panther in front of Sai Saici and Allenby.   
"What do we have here?" His voice was a pleasantly amused drawl, rather impudent, but then again, what else could ladies expect from pirates? Allenby opened her eyes with a snap, glaring up at the new arrival--a tall, well-muscled youth around twenty who easily dwarfed the impish dark-haired boy she'd just battled and lost to, obviously the leader of this motley crew of pirates and sporting a forever unruly mane of dark blue hair that held a curious pink streak across the front. Grinning down at her with light green eyes, a sprig that matched the color of his eyes dangling from the corner of his mouth, he gave off a rather dashing impression with his indigo damask waistcoast, rawhide breeches, and silver-handled pistols hanging from crimson silk sashes. His lips curled up in a smirk as he added, "What do you know, a little lady who actually knows how to hold a sword, albeit quite badly. Nevertheless, it's quite impressive...and most amusing, if I do say so myself." Allenby growled at his shameless display of male chauvinism, spitting out, "As soon as I change out of this ridiculous dress and into something more manageable, I'll show you how much more I can do than merely hold a sword!" The young man flashed an insolent grin at her fiery response, humoring her, "And I'm sure you will, little princess, one of these days. I am Chibodee Crockett, by the way, and it has been an absolute delight to meet you." Allenby's eyebrows met together sharply across her forehead at his mocking sarcasm, and she snapped sullenly in response, "An American. Of course." Chibodee grinned.   
"No more, no less," he agreed good-naturedly. "And your name is...?"   
"None of your business," she fired back, her cerulean-blue eyes glaring daggers into his own green ones. Chibodee smirked at her response.   
"An obnoxiously frank little spitfire--I like that. It's a welcome change from all the simpering, weak-willed ladies that I'm afraid our stuffy society has bred," he retorted playfully, adding as he began to walk away, "In fact, I like your attitude so much, I think I'll just have to keep you for myself." Allenby's mouth dropped open in shock.   
"But you can't!" she stammered, her high airs temporarily forgotten. "My country won't let you do that...and if you aren't afraid of the Swedish army, then you ought to know that the government of France won't allow it either!" Chibodee stopped in his tracks to toss a languid look in her direction, one eyebrow cocked in a maddening way.   
"Oh, really?" he wanted to know. "And why not, if it's not too much below your dignity to explain to a lowly American, er, privateer like myself?"   
"You're not a privateer--you're too much of a boor to even be called a pirate," Allenby snapped. "And as for why not, it's because I'm...I'm engaged to be married to the Comte George de Sand of the French royal court. That's why I'm even making this voyage in the first place." Chibodee retraced his steps and walked back toward her, his eyes meeting her own until she had to turn her face away, blushing slightly and irritated at herself for doing so.   
"But honey, I'm not afraid of uppity French aristocrats," he chuckled in a way that infuriated her, before straightening up and nodding toward two of his men, who immediately descended upon Allenby and yanked her to her feet, leading her after Chibodee, one on each side. Another moved toward Rain and roughly dragged her after her mistress, and together the party boarded a little sloop, with Chibodee at the helm. As the fast little sailing boat started toward the pirates' imposing 46-gun privateer flying the Jolly Roger, a smirking Chibodee turned to Allenby and sarcastically assured her with a laugh, "Don't worry, little princess, I'm not going to hurt you. After all, even if I _do_ change my mind about liking you later on and decide to hand you over to France, I'm sure your precious Comte de Sand won't agree too hastily to ransoming damaged cargo!" 


	2. Chapter Two

George felt a hand tug at his cape, and turned around to meet the earnest green eyes of Princess Marie Louise, who smiled and requested sweetly, "Please, I'd like to speak with you for a moment, George...I'm sorry, Comte de Sand." George distractedly returned her smile with a half-hearted one of his own, his mind too crowded with the information that had been revealed to him only a week earlier to really register anything around him.   
"Of course, Princess Marie Louise--anything for you," he agreed, sweeping down in a polite bow even as his mind lingered on his imminent marriage. Marie Louise clutched his arm and slowly led him away from the courtyard and toward her favorite rose garden, beginning hesitantly as though she were carefully choosing her words, "I, er...Congratulations on your engagement, Comte."   
"Thank you," George replied automatically, trying to remember his bride's name. Was it Allison? Ellen-something? No, that wasn't it..."Allenby," he murmured out loud, then repeated her name as though to confirm it: "Allenby Beardsley." A quick flash of resentment darted across Marie Louise's face, as she leaned back in surprise and asked in a rising voice that poorly concealed her jealousy, "Excuse me, George--Comte? Who are you thinking about?" George snapped back to the present, realizing he'd been ignoring her all this time and feeling a wave of shame wash over him at his ungentlemanly conduct--and around the princess of all people!   
"I am terribly sorry, Princess." He knelt down in a respectful bow, as if to demonstrate his apology with action as well as words. "Please, is there anything you need?" Marie Louise took a deep breath. Now was the time to tell him how she truly felt about him--before his new bride arrived from Sweden and he would forever be lost to her. But what was she supposed to do after she confessed her love for him? She'd never quite planned that far ahead...Perhaps they could elope...   
"Um," Marie Louise stammered, fervently avoiding eye contact while she bought some time. "Um, I...I have to tell you something...something important--" 

Before the princess of France could continue, a soldier came rushing toward the pair, running breathlessly so that his saber clanged against his knees with each sprint and hastily dipping down in a sloppy bow in Marie Louise's direction.   
"Princess Marie Louise, please forgive my rude interruption, but I must speak to Comte de Sand at once," he requested shortly, causing the petite blonde to bite down on her lower lip in disappointment.   
"But--" she started to protest, quieting down as she thought over what exactly she could say to this impersonal cadet. That she was on the verge of spilling her heart out to the Comte? That she merely wanted a moment alone with him? George turned toward her, sweeping down in a more proper bow and requesting courteously, "If you'll forgive me, I have some matters to discuss with the good monsieur. Perhaps another time." Marie Louise hesitated, distress fighting with her devotion to the handsome young count in front of her, and devotion won when she curtsied and obediently walked a respectful distance away from the two men so that they could talk in private. 

She was barely a couple of yards away from George and the cadet when she heard the former gasp a single word.   
"Kidnapped?!"   
Marie Louise froze in her steps, before twisting around abruptly and rushing back toward the two men, even as the cadet made frantic gestures as he further explained the situation, while George listened with a growing frown on his aristocratic features.   
"Her ship was seized by pirates during the voyage from Sweden to France; we believe she's being held for ransom," the cadet explained helplessly, failing to notice when Marie Louise scuttled up to them and asked, "I don't understand. Has Princess Allenby been kidnapped?" George turned to meet Marie Louise's anxious green eyes, reproving gently but sternly, "Princess Marie Louise, you should go elsewhere. This type of conversation isn't fit for ladies." The fair-haired princess set her mouth in a firm line, only her curiosity for more details pressing a defiance against him from her as she replied stubbornly, "No, I won't go. I'll find out about this sooner or later, anyway, and I'd rather hear the information straight from the source, rather than settle for embellished gossip passed down third-hand amongst the court ladies." George leaned back, stunned by her determination, as he started to stammer a protest, "Miss Marie Louise..." before something in her eyes told him she could handle the truth, and he disclosed reluctantly, "Very well, then. Your suspicions are right, Princess Allenby _has_ been kidnapped--her ship was overtaken while sailing toward France by a gang of pirates under the leadership of an American named Chibodee Crockett." Marie Louise leaned back, genuinely shocked and sympathetic.   
"Why...that's terrible," she whispered, having been sheltered all her short life and now stunned in the face of evil. George nodded grimly.   
"Yes, it is--which is why I'll be setting sail immediately to rescue her." His words stabbed a fresh needle of shock into Marie Louise, and she gasped, "You'll be doing what? Oh, George, can't you let the French royal navy take care of this?" As soon as the words were out of her mouth and she saw the frown tug at the corners of George's mouth, she knew she'd said the wrong thing and injured his honor.   
"You know I can't do that, Miss Marie Louise," he reminded her quietly. "After all, Princess Allenby is to be my wife...what kind of message will I be sending her if I care so little about her that I won't even risk my life to save hers?" _But you don't love her enough to risk dying for her,_ Marie Louise wanted to shout stubbornly, biting down on her lip until it hurt to prevent the heated words from escaping. George, meanwhile, had turned to the cadet and was requesting, "Please, assemble a rescue crew immediately. We'll be leaving on my ship, _The Rose."_   
"Right away, sir." The cadet saluted, before twisting on his heel and running off to spread the news. George was about to leave as well, when a quiet request from the princess stopped him in his tracks.   
"Can I come with you?" Marie Louise asked sincerely, hope shining in her green eyes. George's response was immediate, as he nearly snapped, "Of course not! That's the most absurd idea I've ever heard in situations like this!" Regaining his composure, he quickly gave a short bow while murmuring apologetically, "Forgive me, Princess. I'm ashamed to have lost my temper like that, but you have to understand, this journey is far too dangerous for you to go."   
"I'm not afraid of danger," the princess replied stubbornly, lifting her chin with pride as if to demonstrate her gallantry. "And I'm sure I can help you--the pirates will attack without hesitation any man dressed in the attire of the French royal court, but they would never suspect a lady, especially not one so young as myself, and besides--" George quietly cut her off before she could spout any further justifications as to why she should go.   
"Please don't, Miss Marie Louise," he requested softly. "I can't let you senselessly risk your life like this, even if it _is_ for a noble cause." Marie Louise opened her lips, as though to fight his words, when an unreadable look suddenly flashed across her eyes and she backed off, closing her mouth and nodding demurely.   
"All right," she agreed in a deceptively quiet voice, turning around quickly so that he couldn't read her eyes. "I won't press you any further, Comte de Sand. I wish you the best of luck on your rescue mission." And she lifted her skirts from where they'd been trailing on the ground and daintily walked away, leaving George behind to stare after her retreating back with a puzzled frown on his face. 

* * *

The johns! Allenby nearly swelled with rage and indignation each time she thought of where Chibodee had carelessly set up her temporary prison, even as Rain beside her tried to make the best of the situation and untied her sachet from her rustling skirts to hang up above them and combat the smell. The fragrances of lilies-of-the-valley mixed with the stuffily unpleasant odors of the toilets, creating a peculiar rank that made an already outraged Allenby want to rip up the chains restraining her and run as far away from the ship as she possibly could. Somehow, the Swedish princess thought darkly to herself, she had a nagging feeling that Chibodee had purposely chosen to hold them prisoner by the johns as all part of some grand and distasteful joke. He'd certainly seen to it that at least two or three of his men came to do their business every five minutes, and once when Allenby had exploded at him and snapped in a whirlwind of fury and injured vanity that this was no way to treat gentlewomen, he'd simply quirked one eyebrow in her direction before pointing out with exaggerated innocence that there _was_ a screen set up to block out indelicate sights unfit for ladies' eyes.   
"I'd never have thought men of your kind even bothered with toilets," she'd replied after a moment of indignant silence while she'd smarted under his jibe and tried to think of a comeback. "Don't you people just...er, conduct your business into the ocean?" Despite herself, Allenby was blushing by the end of her sentence, wondering why she'd even bothered to bring up that subject around him. He'd be sure to smirk and flip some off-hand jeering remark at her. She was right, when Chibodee replied laughingly, "Well we would, but then what would the little fishies in the sea do?" Allenby scowled.   
"Oh, stop it," she grumbled crossly. "You sound like an even bigger fool than you already are." Chibodee swept down in a grand gesture, as if to tip his hat at her.   
"Why, thank you," he drawled. "I'd take my hat off to you, but as you can see, I'm not wearing one." 

Even now, two days after that particular conversation, Allenby couldn't help but seethe whenever she thought of his insolence.   
"A fine swashbuckler he is," she growled darkly to herself as she remembered his arrogance. "I'll bet that if I could just find the proper attire and sword, I can easily defeat him, fair and square, in a duel." Rain glanced over at her mistress when she heard her bitter diatribe, hastening to remind her, "Miss Allenby, you shouldn't say such things. It's not ladylike for a woman of your class to talk of outfighting a man--especially when he's a pirate and you're going to marry France's Comte de Sand."   
"Thank you so very much for reminding me how two-faced our society is," Allenby remarked dryly. "But I think I'll keep my pride and prove my words, if I can just find a way to convincingly challenge that nasty, low-class American to a proper duel without getting laughed at to my face." 

"Under normal circumstances, that wouldn't be terribly hard--Chibodee Crockett's notorious for never backing down from a challenge," that dismayingly familiar masculine voice spoke up languidly from the doorway, as both women turned around and saw the dark-haired American leaning against the door frame, his ever-present leaf dangling from a corner of his mouth. Chibodee grinned when he saw that he had the princess's attention, and proceeded to continue, "But you can't tell me you've already forgotten our agreement there, little missy--you won't give me any troubles, and I'll see to it that you and your chaperone over there don't get hurt. Remember, I'm not too keen on ransoming damaged cargo."   
"How could I forget?" Allenby spat out, bristling at being referred to as some sort of object that could be traded for money. "When someone insinuates a woman is merely some sort of over-decorated property to get money out of, it kind of stays in my memory for quite a while!" Chibodee flashed a lopsided grin at her remark, flicking out his green leaf and leaning down to match her height. Allenby quickly turned her head in the other direction so that she wouldn't have to meet his eyes, but from her position she could still hear the smirk in his voice as he drawled, "I see, so you're the type who holds grudges." His next words surprised her so much, she actually whipped around and found herself looking him face-to-face with her mouth hanging slightly ajar, when he spoke pleasantly enough, "However, I _can_ understand your frustrations over having to conform to society's biased ideas of a woman's role and value. Good for you, having a mind of your own--no matter how stubborn and childish it may be."   
"You actually appreciate women's minds?" she gasped with a tinge of genuine admiration in her voice. "Guess you're not such a ruffian after all. And I'm not stubborn or childish!" Chibodee grinned carelessly.   
"Sure you are," he taunted, enjoying the burst of anger and loathing that immediately flared over Allenby's features at his words. He went on, adding with a playful wink, "Moreso than you'd like to admit. If you didn't have your mind so stubbornly set on the idea that I'm an ill-mannered rogue with no respect for ladies, you'd have seen long ago how charming yours truly actually is." Allenby tilted back her slender neck and laughed, not out of scorn or resentment but of genuine mirth, causing him to lean back with a curious look on his face.   
"Hey," Chibodee spoke up with mock apprehension, but the curiosity in his eyes betrayed his true feelings, "should I take that as an insult or a compliment that you're finally beginning to discover my wit?" A flicker of satisfaction lightened Allenby's mood, as she realized that she now held a degree of control over the American--the very first since she'd been on his ship.   
"Oh, it's no compliment," she assured him in a deliberately saccharine voice, enjoying the flash of confusion--and another emotion that she couldn't quite read--that darted across his face. "I just couldn't help but find highly amusing the thought of a renegade and an American like yourself as anything near charming or gallant."   
"There goes the childish side of you," Chibodee countered. "Aristocrats equal refined, buccaneers equal vulgar." Allenby glared at him, feeling the control she'd held over him just a while ago beginning to slip. She fought for an equally snappy comeback, but, unable to think of anything vicious enough, settled for retorting sullenly, "I retract anything I might have said about you being less ill-mannered when you lied about actually respecting women who could think for themselves. You're still a cad."   
"And you're still a child, pouting about not getting your way and talking big," Chibodee taunted. 

Only one thing kept Allenby from breaking through her restraints and punching his lights out for his remark, and that was the arrival of whom she would later learn was the ship's first mate, a rugged-looking Japanese man named Domon Kasshu. His features were more hardy than handsome, Allenby decided...unless, of course, women found his hardy appeal to be handsome, as Rain apparently did by the look on her face. Allenby grinned to herself, studying Domon more closely to see which of his features had attracted her waiting gentlewoman.   
"Hey, Chibodee, the navigator's spotted a British merchant ship dead ahead," Domon spoke up carelessly, sparing a brief look at the two women before focusing his attention back on the American.   
"Hn, you know me," Chibodee laughed easily, and while the two men went over the attack plan, Allenby decided that if it weren't for the scars, Domon could actually be fairly good-looking. 

"Handsome fellow, isn't he?"   
Chibodee's teasing remark brought Allenby's mind back to the present, and she snapped up and stammered, flustered and blushing, "Wh--what are you talking about?" Chibodee jerked his head toward the general direction where Domon was now leaving, adding, "He'll have a hell of a time getting used to the idea of not one but two ladies chasing after him."   
"Oh," Allenby stumbled, her face flaming bright red, "it's just like you to spread distasteful rumors of gentlewomen falling for ugly, battle-scarred pirates such as the likes of you and your men!"   
"I don't see any gentlewomen before me," Chibodee whistled innocently. "All I see is a stubborn little girl playing dress-up in ladies' gowns and trying to act like a demure and sophisticated gentlewoman...even though a few minutes ago she was going on about matching swords with a pirate." Allenby scowled, still angry but now tired of these senseless arguments with him of which she couldn't seem to ever emerge the victor, so she decided to change the subject.   
"He called you by your first name," she spoke up, referring to Domon. "Shouldn't he be referring to you as captain or at least leader? You can never expect to command respect among your men if you allow them to treat you like one of their own."   
"Another charming concept you picked up in the Swedish royal court, I'm sure," Chibodee replied breezily. "And as for your question, I let my men call me by my name rather than by any title because I don't want their respect--I want their friendship, which can prove to invoke more loyalty than mere admiration. Besides," he added with a cheeky grin, "being respected makes me feel old and distinguished--and we can't have that, can we?" He straightened up before she could reply, drawing himself to his full height and beginning to walk out of the room, tossing a few parting words over his shoulder.   
"Well, little lady, since you've been yearning to get out of your lovely prison so much, I'll grant it." 

Allenby started up at his words, shocked at the possibility that he might be offering her freedom when he'd gone through such troubles to capture her.   
"You will?" she asked in a small voice, not daring to hope for too much. Chibodee turned around and grinned, and when she saw the amused smirk hidden behind his carefree gesture, she knew he hadn't been talking about releasing her.   
"Of course--ever been present at the plundering of a galleon before?" he teased.   
"Be serious, American," she snapped irritably, her head dropping in disappointment that he'd only been joking about taking her out of her jail. Chibodee retraced his steps, leaning over her and grinning.   
"I _am_ serious--it's quite the excitement really; I figured you deserved at least that before you went from one boring lifestyle to another," he said.   
"You're telling me that you'll just drag me along while you and your ruffians assault and ransack some other ship?" Allenby tried to make her voice as indignant as possible, but couldn't deny the secret thrill that went through her at the prospect of witnessing anything other than the finest royal decorum.   
"What do you say?" Chibodee hovered above her, waiting for an answer and cocking one eyebrow questioningly in her direction.   
"Miss Allenby, that is the most ridiculous and vulgar proposition--" Rain started to remind her warningly, but Allenby paid no attention to her words.   
"I say...perhaps you aren't such a cad after all," she replied, returning his grin with an impish one of her own. 


End file.
